


Playing House

by romanticalgirl



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who do you think you are? Martha Stewart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1toomany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1toomany/gifts).



“This is my own version of hell. You know that right?” Mickey shrugged off the arm Ian looped over his shoulder. “I fully expect to run into Satan in housewares.”

“There isn’t a housewares section. We’ll do that at Wal-Mart.”

“Goodwill.”

“New stuff.”

“New furniture. Don’t get greedy.”

Ian’s lower lip slid out in a pout and he bat his eyelashes at Mickey. “Please, Mick? I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You do that no matter what, because makin’ it worth my while makes it worth your while.” He smiled and looked at Ian out of the corner of his eye. Ian’s pout got more pronounced so Mickey reached out and grabbed Ian’s lip, tugging lightly.

Ian slapped Mickey’s hand away. “Mean.”

“You keep it up and your face is going to stay that way and then where will you be?”

“Kissing you like this.” Ian stuck his tongue out and tried to kiss Mickey. He reached out for him, walking like Frankenstein’s monster. Mickey dodged him, glaring at Ian. “Come to me, Mickey. Let me love you.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” Mickey moved to Ian’s side and shoved him. Ian laughed and stumbled to the side dramatically, teetering on the curb. “You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I wasn’t.”

“Right. I hang out with our brothers. I’m used to assholes.”

Ian moved behind Mickey, too close for in public he knew, but he grabbed Mickey’s hips anyway and pulled him back against him. “You’re my favorite asshole. In so many ways.”

Mickey snorted and elbowed Ian. “Get the fuck off me.”

“Oh, now _that’s_ something I don’t think I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“Ha ha.” Mickey elbowed him again again as Ian backed off and fell in step beside him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with our old furniture.”

“We barely fit on my bed, your bed is on its last legs and, as much as I love Yevgeny, I refuse to have the couch where he was conceived in our apartment. And I want a dining room table without knife marks on it.”

“Christ. Ask for the world, why don’t you?”

Ian caught Mickey’s hand and squeezed it hard before letting go. “I know you hate this.”

Mickey reached over, grabbed Ian’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Yeah, well, I guess it’s a good thing I like you.”

Ian grinned and was careful not to do anything to cause Mickey to let go as they walked into the furniture store. They both knew they’d buy from Ikea – if they were going for really fancy – since they couldn’t actually afford much else. They couldn’t really afford Ikea either, but that never stopped Ian from dreaming. Ian – in mid-dream no doubt – had suggested this, that they take a trip to an actual furniture store to try out the good stuff, pretend they could actually afford something nice for once.

They were both dressed in jeans and button-down shirts at Ian’s insistence, saying that no one would take them seriously if Mickey wore a tank top, even with a jacket over it.

They walked in and one of the clerks working the floor walked over to them. He looked at Ian, which made Mickey’s eyebrows rise. Ian smiled at the guy, ignoring Mickey completely. Mickey’s eyebrow shot up higher, and he saw Ian’s mouth twitch with the threat of a smile.

“How may I help you?”

“We’re looking to decorate our new place and we thought we’d look around. We just moved here, and we’re basically starting from scratch.”

The clerk’s eyes practically lit up with dollar signs. Mickey rolled his eyes and bumped Ian’s arm with his elbow before walking off. The salesclerk ignored him and Mickey ignored Ian’s glare. About twenty minutes later Ian came up and punched Mickey hard in the arm.

“Asshole.”

“I didn’t want to get in the way of you discussing your aesthetic with Kiss-ass McCommission over there.”

“You spend this entire time thinking up that name?”

“Yeah yeah. Fuck you.”

Ian grinned at him and rubbed the knuckles of his hand against Mickey’s hip. “Find anything good?”

“Couple of things. Might be okay. Need you to help check ‘em out.”

“Is that so?”

“Can’t make some sort of unilateral decision here. Need your input.”

Ian snorted. “You always want my input.” He glanced from his crotch to Mickey’s ass and Mickey rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. Show me what you found.”

Mickey led Ian back toward the living room sets. He pointed at a few, watching Ian’s face for interest. Ian shrugged at a couple of them. “They’re okay, I guess.”

Mickey laughed. “You’re so fucking predictable, Gallagher.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mickey nodded around a corner and Ian followed him, grinning at the assortment of leather couches. “Hey. Easy clean up.”

“Your ass is gonna stick all the time.” Mickey tugged Ian over to one of them, a dark brown leather. Mickey shoved Ian down. “Well?”

Ian shifted a few times before lying down and stretching out. “It’s pretty comfy.”

“You don’t think it’s too soft?”

“Too soft?”

Mickey waved his hands toward him. “Sit up.”

Ian did as he was told and Mickey stood in front of him, knees against Ian’s. Ian looked up at him, obviously confused. Mickey smiled then moved forward, straddling Ian. His knees dug into Ian’s thighs and he rested his arms on Ian’s shoulders.

“Shit, Mickey.”

“I’m just not sure there’s enough of leverage. A lot of spring, you know?” His thighs tightened and he rolled his hips forward. Ian sucked in a sharp breath, his hands going to Mickey’s hips. Mickey started moving, rising up then sinking down as if he were slowly riding Ian’s dick. “Too much give.”

“Yeah?” Ian gasped.

Mickey started moving faster. “Don’t you think?”

“Think...thi-think it’s good.” Ian held Mickey against him, thrusting up to meet Mickey’s down stroke.

Mickey leaned in, breath fanning over Ian’s neck, whispering over his ear. “Dunno, Gallagher. Doesn’t feel-” Mickey broke off with a low moan as Ian rocked up into him. “Doesn’t feel quite right.”

“Too...” Ian panted roughly. “Too many clothes.”

“Think that’s it?” Mickey nipped Ian’s earlobe then traced his ear with his tongue. “Want me naked when I ride you on this?”

Ian twisted them, turning over so that Mickey was on his back on the leather cushions and Ian was cradled between Mickey’s legs. “Fuck, Mick. Yes.”

“What are you two doing?!” Ian sank his teeth into Mickey’s neck, sucking on his throat. The sales clerk came over and grabbed Ian’s shoulder, jerking him away from Mickey. “You can’t do that here!”

“Why? Because we’re gay?” Ian stood up to his full height and glared at the clerk. He refused to look at Mickey, knowing he’d crack into a smile.

“What? No! Because this is a _store_. Someone is going to buy that couch!” The clerk’s face was bright read and he seemed to be unsure who to look at, so his gaze alternated between Mickey and Ian. “You can’t have sex in the showroom.”

“Hmph.” Ian shook his head. “I don’t think this is the right store for us, Mickey.”

Mickey blatantly adjusted his hard-on. “Think you might be right.” He started walking toward the door and Ian fell in step beside him. “Besides, it really wasn’t up to our standards.”

**

“What’re we doing, Ian?”

Ian walked backward down the street, doing nothing to hide his ridiculous grin. “Well, I was thinking...” 

“Always the first sign of trouble.”

“Fuck you.” Ian continued as if Mickey hadn’t said anything. “I was thinking we should do some more decorating.”

“You Martha fucking Stewart all of a sudden? We live in a one-bedroom, ex-drug dealer’s shithole that we only get cheap because two guys died there, and we were willing to help clean up the blood. Don’t think we need any fucking doilies or anything.”

“I think our very nice three bedroom house that we’re renovating needs a completely new kitchen.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Mickey held out his arms, reminding Ian he was dressed in ratty jeans and a tank top.

“You can be my rugged contractor.”

“I thought it was our house.”

“Oh, no. Belongs to me and the little woman. But, our little secret?” Ian stepped closer to Mickey, leaning in. “I might just think the contractor is hot.”

“Oh, you might, huh?”

“It’s possible.” Ian ran a finger along Mickey’s belt. “That I’m having a torrid affair with him.”

“That so?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. In fact, pretty sure the wife’s out of town tonight.”

“You’re seriously fucked in the head, Gallagher.” Mickey shook his head. “But I’m going to go along with it, so what does that say about me?”

“That it’s more than just an affair to you?”

“You’re more than anything.” Mickey said it softly, just loud enough for Ian to hear. 

Ian bit his lip and curled his fingers under Mickey’s belt. “And you’re everything.”

Mickey blew out a breath. “Can’t believe I’m screwing a married man.”

“I did it. I’m still doing it.” Ian shrugged. “You too can be a home wrecker.”

“Asshole.” 

Ian planted a short, sweet kiss on Mickey’s lips. “Lights, camera, action.”

The showroom was filled with bright lights on tracks and chandeliers and everything in between. There was a whole section of bathroom cabinets and vanities, single pedestals up to counters cut for four sinks. “Who the fuck needs four sinks?”

“We’d kill for four sinks at home. I’ve had toothpaste spit in my hair _way_ too many times.”

“You ever heard of closing the fucking door.”

“Just because your family wouldn’t know what to _do_ with a toothbrush...”

Mickey jabbed Ian hard in the side and Ian danced away. Mickey started walking through the display of cabinets and more cabinets. “Why are there, like, five hundred of these? What’s the big fucking difference?”

“Well,” Ian snagged Mickey by the hips and led him to one of the cabinets, pressing him against it. It hit Mickey about mid-stomach. “This one’s too high.” He rocked his body forward and pressed against Mickey’s ass. “If I fucked you against this, you’d be sore and bruised.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Mm.” Ian pulled away and walked over to another one, tugging Mickey by his hand. “This one’s too low.” He pressed Mickey into the cabinet with his body again. “You’d be slamming your dick into the top and that would definitely not be fun.”

“No shit.”

“Plus, even though it’s the right height for _certain_ people, it’s a little too short for all of us normal-size folks.”

“You know, it doesn’t matter which one we get because we’re never having sex again.”

“This one though.” Ian ignored him and dragged Mickey across the aisle to a cabinet that was a different design, roughly between the other two in height. Ian wrapped his arm around Mickey’s waist and walked up to the cabinet. He pressed close and thrust lightly. Mickey’s hips hit the edge perfectly and Ian freed his hand to slide it along Mickey’s spine to his neck, bending him forward. “This one’s perfect.”

Mickey rose up on his toes, pressing his ass hard against Ian’s dick. “Fuck, Ian.”

Ian placed a quick kiss on Mickey’s shoulder. “Later.” He whistled to himself a he walked away, and Mickey clenched his fists to try and calm himself down. He wasn’t sure if he was going to spend the night riding Ian into the mattress or murdering him. It was too close to call.

“Can I help you gentlemen?”

Ian opened his mouth, but Mickey jumped in before he could say anything. “Mr. Gallagher and his wife just bought their first home. Well, her parents did. It needs a little work though, so we’re doing some shopping while she’s at home with Tommy and Jake, their two-year-old twins.”

“I...see. And what are you doing? Kitchen? Bath?”

“Kitchen first.” Mickey didn’t give Ian any chance to talk. “Mrs. Gallagher loves to bake. Wants her dream kitchen.”

Ian glared at Mickey, his eyes promising retribution.

“Well, let me show you through our model kitchens, and we’ll see if we can’t find something you and your wife will like.”

They trailed behind the clerk through kitchen after kitchen, hearing the virtues of every kind of wood, cabinet design, and counter top. Ian leaned close to Mickey and growled low. “I hate you.”

“You’re going to make her the happiest little woman in the world.”

“Jacob?” Ian cut the clerk off in the middle of him waxing rhapsodic about granite counter tops. “I really liked that first set up you showed us. Can I get specifics on that?”

“Of course, but there are still a few...”

“We’re just going to stroll through ourselves.”

Jacob looked a little confused and upset, but he headed back toward the design center. Mickey blew out a breath. “Can we get the fuck out of here now?”

“You really think they’re as great as he says they are?”

“What?”

“The counter tops.”

“Ian, our fucking apartment is pretty much a cardboard box with paint slapped on it. Who gives a fuck about granite...what the fuck are you...” Mickey struggled to get out of Ian’s arms as he wrapped them under Mickey’s ass and lifted him up. “Put me the fuck down, Ian.”

Ian deposited Mickey on the counter. “Comfy?”

“I’m on the fucking counter, shithead. No, I’m not comfy. Now get out of the way so I can get down.”

Ian put his hands on Mickey’s thighs and guided them apart so he could move between them. “Better than laminate?”

“Better than...” Mickey’s head fell back as Ian pressed closer, nuzzling at Mickey’s throat. “Ian.”

“It’s slick. Easier to move you around.” Ian slipped his hands under Mickey’s knees and tugged him closer to the edge. “Don’t want it to be too slick though.”

Mickey’s breath came out in a rough exhale. “Pretty sure you’re keeping me from sliding off.”

“But what if I’m on my knees and your legs are over my shoulders? You right on the edge so I can lick you? Eat your perfect ass out?”

“Shit,” Mickey curses roughly, wrapping his legs around Ian’s. He groaned roughly and pressed his face against Ian’s throat. “Won’t...what about your wife? Your kids?” Mickey tried to get closer, tried to get friction.

“Fuck your ass with my tongue, with my fingers. Going to have you writhing on the counter top.”

Mickey dug his heels into Ian’s lower thighs. He bit his lip to keep from moaning. Ian’s hands cupped his ass and Mickey pressed a hot, panting kiss on Ian’s neck. “Yeah. Yes. Please, Ian.”

“Worried you might slip off, Mick. So slick and slippery. Don’t want you to fall.”

Mickey scraped his teeth over Ian’s neck and Ian jerked Mickey closer. “Need you inside me so much.”

“Think we’re done here, yeah?” Ian was as breathless as Mickey, his face flushed with heat and want and need. He tugged Mickey off the counter without moving back so their bodies slid against each others.

“All right.” Jacob came around the corner and stopped, staring at the complete lack of space between them. “Mr. Gallagher?”

“Yeah. We’ll be back.” Ian snagged the folder of information out of Jacob’s hand. “Gotta get home.” Ian brushed past him, holding tightly to Mickey’s hand. 

“Oh.” Jacob swallowed. “To the...to the wife and kids?”

“Who?” Ian shook his head. “Screw them. I’m going home to fuck him.”

**

“Come on.”

Ian refused to look at Mickey instead pulling the blanket over his head. “Fuck off.”

“Rise and shine, Annie.” Mickey reached out and tugged the strands of Ian’s hair poking out. “It’s tomorrow and the sun came out as promised.”

“Fuck. Off.”

Mickey grabbed the blanket and jerked it out of Ian’s hands. He shoved it out of the way so he could straddle Ian. Bracing himself and smiling down at Ian, Mickey shook his head. “We’ve got big plans today.”

“My plans involve sleeping and, if you get your ass back in bed, fucking you.”

“Tempting as that sounds, get up.” Mickey kissed him.

“I hate you so much.”

“I know. Mickey moved off of him and stood next to the bed. “Come on.”

Ian glared at him as he climbed out of bed. “You’re a complete and utter asshole and you’re going to rot in hell.”

“Pretty sure _this_ isn’t why I’m going to hell. Shower.”

“Since when are you so bossy?”

Mickey slapped Ian’s ass as he walked past. “Move it, Gallagher.”

“Rotting in hell.”

Mickey laughed as Ian disappeared into the bathroom. He stretched out on the bed with his legs crossed at the ankles and his hands laced behind his head. Ian came out a short while later with a towel wrapped around his neck. Water droplets clung to his skin, trailing through his smattering of chest hair and down to his dick. “Playing dirty, huh?”

“I’m all clean.” Ian crawled up Mickey’s body and knelt over Mickey. “Not a dirty spot on me.”

“Dirty mind,” Mickey murmured as he ran his hands up and down Ian’s thighs.

“Mm. Maybe a little.” He shifted back, his ass rubbing against Mickey’s dick. “Sure you don’t want to stay in bed?”

Mickey laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest. “C’mere.” He cupped Ian’s ass and pulled him forward. Ian rose up on his knees and moved up the bed. As he got closer, Mickey flicked his tongue over the head of Ian’s hard cock. “Wanna fuck my mouth?”

Ian huffed a breath. “That’s rhetorical, right?” He settled on Mickey’s chest and held his cock, rubbing it against Mickey’s parted lips. Mickey’s tongue darted out and slid over the flushed skin. 

“C’mon, Gallagher. Wanna taste you.”

Grabbing the headboard, Ian got back on his knees, angling his dick to Mickey’s mouth. Mickey squeezed Ian’s ass as he slid between Mickey’s lips. Mickey moaned around him and took Ian’s cock as deep as he could.

“Fuck, yes.” Ian rolled his hips slowly so Mickey could adjust, but as soon as Mickey rubbed Ian’s ass, he started moving in earnest.

Mickey’s thick, wet noises as he sucked Ian’s cock were hot. Pornographic. The sounds Ian made were just as loud, just as dirty. He couldn’t look away from Mickey’s face, from the spit gathered at the corner of his mouth to the tears leaking from his eyes in fast-drying trails to Mickey’s dark hair. The gorgeous sight of Mickey’s full pink lips stretched thin and taut over Ian’s dick.

“Jesus,” Ian panted. “Jesus. Your fucking mouth. Fucking perfect, Mick.” Mickey hummed around Ian and Ian’s breath hitched. “So fucking gorgeous.”

Mickey closed his eyes, dark lashes falling on pale skin. His hands cupped around Ian’s ass again, his fingers brushing along the crack. Ian gasped and thrust deeper, feeling Mickey’s throat tighten.

“Shit. Shit. Yes. Fuck.” Ian thrust again then ground back against Mickey’s fingers, losing himself in the pressure. His hands tightened around the headboard and he dropped his head, whole body shaking as he came down Mickey’s throat.

Mickey kept sucking until Ian pulled away, begging him to stop. Mickey grinned up at him, looking like the cat that got the cream..

“Jesus. Your mouth should be a registered weapon.” Ian slid off of Mickey and flopped onto the bed. “Holy shit.”

Mickey sat up and licked his lips. “What are you doing?”

“Catching my breath before I blow you.”

“Nope. We’ve got places to go. You’re not going to distract me.” Mickey stood up and adjusted himself in his jeans. “Get up. Get dressed.”

“Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Mickey?”

“Ha ha. Get your ass up.”

“That’s my line.” Ian sighed heavily and got to his feet. “You’re mean and I don’t like you anymore.”

“Liked me well enough when your dick was in my mouth.”

“That was then. This is now.” 

Mickey flipped Ian off and walked into their close to non-existent living room. He sat on the broken down chair and shoved his feet in his shoes, willing his dick to calm the fuck down. Ian came out a few minutes later dressed but pouting.

“Jesus Christ you’re a drama queen.”

Ian stuck his tongue out and shoved Mickey over, squeezing into the chair next to him.

“Really?” Mickey raised an eyebrow. “This is what you’re doing?”

Ian turned an innocent look on Mickey. “What?”

Mickey struggled out of the chair, ignoring Ian laughing at him. “You are such a fucking dick.”

Ian finished putting on his shoes. “Okay. I’m ready. This better be fucking good.”

“Quit your fucking bitching.” Mickey grabbed Ian’s hand and pulled him in close, wrapping his hand around the nape of Ian’s neck and tugging him down for a kiss. He licked his way into Ian’s mouth, catching his tongue and sucking on it. When he pulled back, Ian’s eyes were dark. “I love you, shithead.”

Ian nodded, staring into Mickey’s blown pupils. “I love you too.”

Mickey bit the corner of his lower lip, his skin flushed. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

“You always do that.” Ian locked the door behind them and walked next to Mickey as they headed to the stairs. 

“Do what?”

“Brush it off when I tell you I love you.” Ian frowned, watching the back of Mickey’s neck reddening further. “Do you not believe me?”

“Course I do.”

“Then why? You say it, so I know it’s not the words.”

“I don’t blow it off.”

“You do too.” Ian grabbed Mickey’s hand. “C’mon. Tell me.”

Something about his voice made Mickey close his eyes and sigh. “It’s just...”

Ian was quiet for a moment, waiting for Mickey. When he didn’t say anything for a while, Ian rubbed the back of Mickey’s hand. “What?”

“No one ever said it before to me. Never thought anyone would. So it’s just...”

Ian caught Mickey’s chin and made him look at him. “I’ll tell you every day. A hundred times a day. As much as you need to believe it.”

“I believe you, Ian.”

“You believe me, but you don’t believe _it_.” He kissed Mickey hard. “I love you. I love you so much that it hurts sometimes because I can’t be with you. You’re under my skin. You’re in my fucking blood, Mick.”

Mickey rubbed his forehead with his knuckle. “I don’t understand why though. Why me? Why was it ever me?”

“Mickey.” Ian framed Mickey’s face with his hands, his long fingers feather-light on Mickey’s skin. “Always you.”

Mickey closed his eyes and rested his head on Ian’s chest. “Proof you’re fucking insane.”

“This is the kind of insanity I can live with.” He kissed the top of Mickey’s head. “Now take me wherever you’re so fucking determined to go.”

**

Ian glanced around as Mickey led the way. “Where are we?”

“Hold your horses.”

“What’s with all the secrecy?”

“Maybe I want to fucking surprise you.”

“You hate surprises.”

“Yeah, but you don’t.”

Ian smiled and Mickey fought one of his own. “Mickey Milkovich. You _looooooove_ me.”

“You’re such a dickhead.” He nodded toward a store across the street. “In there?”

Ian frowned at the three story furniture store Mickey gestured toward. “What are we doing here?”

“We haven’t finished decorating.”

“What?”

“Just come on.” Mickey walked into the store, not looking back to see if Ian was following him. The automatic doors swished closed behind them, and Ian lengthened his stride to catch up with Mickey. He didn’t need to look to know Mickey was smirking.

Ian shoved his hands in his pockets and bumped into Mickey before following him onto the escalator. “Seriously what are we doing here?”

Mickey nodded forward as they reached the second floor. “This.”

Ian looked around and grinned. “Dressers?”

“You want to look at dressers, you go right ahead. Me? I’m gonna check out the beds.”

Ian bit the inside of his cheek and watched Mickey stride along the rows of different beds and mattresses. Mickey’s walk was something between a strut and a swagger and it made his ass look amazing in his jeans. Ian didn’t spare a glance at the dressers, following Mickey instead. 

Mickey stopped at one bed and raised an eyebrow. There was a small step stool beside it. “You have to climb the fucking stairs to get into bed?”

“Well, I wouldn’t.”

Mickey didn’t even look at him as he flipped him off. “You fall out of this one and you’d break your fucking neck.” He poked the mattress and then climbed up and sat on it. Ian watched him, fighting a smile. “Still.” He lay back on the mattress and spread his arms out, fingers touching the tall posts of the headboard. “Has advantages.”

It wasn’t hard for Ian to picture ropes around Mickey’s wrists, Mickey naked and struggling, eyes challenging. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Mickey turned his head and looked at Ian through half-closed eyes, obviously aware of what was on Ian’s mind. He sat up suddenly and hopped to the floor. “But I don’t particularly want to have to put on fucking mountain climbing gear to get into bed.” 

He brushed against Ian as he headed to the next set up, pressing on the mattress with both hands. Ian followed him closely, wondering what Mickey intended to do next. Mickey got on the mattress and sprawled out again. “You think a queen?”

Ian snorted. “No pun intended?”

“Fuck you.” Mickey flipped Ian off and sat up. “California king?”

“I think our apartment’s smaller than a California king.” 

“We’re not talking about our apartment.” Mickey stood up and stopped just in front of Ian, close enough to touch, close enough that their chests practically brushed with every breath. “I’m talking about that fancy house we’ve got. You and me.”

Ian nodded slightly. “California king gives us lots of room.”

“Yeah, but you’d still end up plastered over me. I’d probably be on the edge of the bed, hanging on for dear life and you’d be smothering me with your giant body.”

“Oh yeah. No matter how big the bed is, I’m gonna be all up in your ass.” Ian’s lips quirked with a smile and Mickey rolled his eyes. Ian waggled his eyebrows. “Huh? Huh?”

“You’re an idiot.” Mickey sat back down and bounced on the mattress. “Not bad.”

“Maybe not for that, but that’s not nearly as hard as I pound you.”

Mickey bounced a little harder. “Still good.”

“Still not hard enough.”

“Well, get your ass up here and show me how hard, Gallagher. See if it’s got what we need.” 

Ian got on the bed, sitting next to Mickey. He bounced softly as well. “Good springs.”

“Oh, I say it and it’s not good enough, but you open your yap and suddenly it’s the best mattress in the world?”

Ian slid back into the middle of the mattress and caught Mickey’s hand as Mickey looked back over his shoulder at him. “Not gonna be fucking you on the edge of the bed. Bending you over it, maybe. But if I’m fucking you, I want some nice leverage. Knees dug in between your spread legs.”

Ian stretched out, refusing to let go of Mickey’s hand. He tugged him closer, pulling him down next to him on the mattress. Ian bent his elbow and propped his head on his hand, reaching out with the other to stroke Mickey’s jaw. 

“God, you’re beautiful.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey snapped.

“You are.” Ian leaned in and kissed him, slow and warm. Mickey’s body stiffened then relaxed under the familiar assault of Ian’s mouth, of his tongue. He pulled back after a while, rubbing his thumb over Mickey’s wet, swollen mouth. “Get on your knees.”

Mickey did as Ian said, turning onto his hands and knees. Ian groaned and grabbed Mickey’s hips, pulling him back against him so his dick was against Mickey’s ass. 

“Just on your knees.” Ian flexed his thighs and made the bed move slightly. “Just like this.”

They moved in unison, bouncing on the bed. Ian kept his hands on Mickey’s hips, holding him against him as they sped up, moving faster and harder. Mickey’s eyes were closed, his breathing ragged as Ian’s hot, damp gasps fell on his throat. Mickey lifted his arm, wrapping it around Ian’s neck so Mickey could hold him still as he turned to kiss him. 

The kiss was sloppy and at a shitty angle, but both Mickey and Ian groaned into it. Ian had given up just bouncing and was thrusting against Mickey, rubbing his dick against Mickey’s ass through the thin worn layers of their jeans. Mickey caught Ian’s upper lip and sucked on it lightly until the press of Ian’s body got to be too much. He let his head fall back onto Ian’s shoulder and arched his back, trying to urge Ian’s hand down to his dick. 

“Ian,” He hissed softly. “Please.” Mickey shifted and fell forward slightly, bracing himself on his hands. Ian made a noise that Mickey felt more than heard and then they were moving together like teenagers, rutting against one another. 

Ian forced himself to pull back and fell onto his ass, spreading his legs apart. Mickey didn’t move, just listened to their combined desperate breathing. His head fell forward and Ian could hear Mickey’s breath shuddering out of him. “Let’s...fuck. Let’s go home. Need to get you home and get inside you.”

Mickey nodded and got back up to his knees. He could feel his body shaking, trembling as he teetered close to the edge of an orgasm, trying to rein himself back in. He sank down onto the bed as well, keeping distance between him and Ian. “You don’t want to try out more beds?”

“The only bed I want to try out is ours. As soon as humanly possible.”

Mickey rubbed his hand over his face, not surprised at the damp hint of sweat. “Spring for a cab?”

“Yes.”

**

Despite his shorter legs, Mickey beat Ian up the stairs and had the door unlocked before Ian got to their apartment. Ian manhandled him inside and shut the door, pushing Mickey up against it and catching him in a kiss. Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck and slid his tongue in Ian’s mouth tasting him. 

Ian’s hands curved under Mickey’s ass and he lifted him, fitting himself against Mickey as Mickey wrapped his legs around Ian. Ian stumbled backwards then turned around, carrying Mickey into the bedroom without breaking their kiss except to start another and another.

“Christ, I need to fuck you,” Ian whispered into Mickey’s mouth between hot, hard kisses. “Fuck you so hard and then tie you up and tease you until we’re ready again.”

“Then get the fuck on with it,” Mickey groaned.

Ian’s hands suddenly disappeared and it was only quick thinking that kept Mickey from landing on his ass on the floor. “What the fuck is that?”

Mickey glanced over his shoulder and released his hold on Ian’s neck. He turned around and leaned against Ian’s chest. “Bed.”

“That’s not our bed.”

“Yeah. It is.” 

It wasn’t a California king, but it was new and had new sheets and fucking mints on the pillows. “What the fuck?”

“Well, I can’t fucking give you a house with leather couches or with granite counter tops – much less twin boys – and I wish I could. But I figured, as much time as we spend there, a bed’s a good investment, right?” Mickey was stiff in Ian’s arms as he waited for his reaction. “Iggy and Carl and Debbie put it together while we were out.”

“But...”

“I mean, it’s not as good for tying someone up as the one we saw today, but I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.” At Ian’s silence, Mickey tried to pull away. “Do you like it?” The twist in Mickey’s voice – the fear and the surety that he’d fucked something up – made Ian’s whole body hurt. “If you don’t, I can...”

“It’s perfect.” Ian closed his eyes and rested his head on Mickey’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around Mickey’s body, hand curled around his opposite shoulder. “I love it.” 

Mickey eased out of Ian’s arms and grabbed his hand, leading him to the bed. “Come on and show me.”

“I love you.” Ian waits for Mickey to blow him off, to bat the words away like normal, but instead he tugs Ian in for a kiss before tumbling them both back onto the bed.

“I know. I love you too.”


End file.
